


Sledgehammer

by NanakiBH



Series: Out of Step in a Never-Ending Gray Zone [2]
Category: Persona 5
Genre: Hurt No Comfort, Hypocrisy, Jealousy, M/M, Madness, One-Sided Attraction, Possessive Behavior, Stream of Consciousness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-18
Updated: 2017-09-18
Packaged: 2018-12-31 08:06:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12128142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NanakiBH/pseuds/NanakiBH
Summary: It wasn't his fault. Everyone else was to blame.





	Sledgehammer

**Author's Note:**

> *SIPS COFFEE*
> 
> Have fun watching Akechi play himself.

He forgot the words he wanted to say a long time ago.

They were there, once. They might've been, still.

But, because there were no ears that would listen to them, Akechi Goro chose to forget them.

There were times, during lapses of self-confidence, when an irrational part of him wanted to shout them out, but he held it back, knowing that they would've done nothing. Words without effect were meaningless. Pointless. Only good for reinforcing the things he already knew. He was alone and could only rely on himself.

Around him, there was just reality and its unfairness.

He couldn't say he didn't want to escape it, but admitting something like that out loud would've also been pointless. The fact that there were people who experienced a version of reality that was very different from his own was a concept that bothered him on a near-daily basis. Hearing out-of-touch people talk about optimism made him want to grind his teeth. It gave him ulcers. They didn't know what it was like to live in the gutter of life.

One time, he heard an interesting theory.

'Only oneself can be proven to exist.'

Something like that.

In some ways, it was a comforting idea. It was an affirmation that he existed. He was the one responsible for his own momentum. He was moving forward on his own. Assuming that was true, he could do whatever he wanted without a shred of regret or remorse because it meant that no one else even existed; just details in the landscape of his personal reality. The planet's existence began with him and was destined to end with him someday, too. The world belonged to him.

But if that were all true, then he wondered – why the hell was his world such a piece of shit?

He wanted to dismiss it as nonsense, but he couldn't. It made sense.

Reality needed cleaning. That was all. It was his fault for not noticing all the junk piling up around him soon enough. He just had to take care of it.

It wasn't a nonsense thought. After all, someone had been kind enough to show him that there were microcosms inside other people. The ones who dreamed the loudest and talked the biggest were always the ones with the ugliest ideas. It figured that they'd be the ones staining his world. They didn't have the right, and he had just the tools to remove them.

How fortunate it was that someone would grant him such a power. Perhaps he willed them into existence, too. It made Akechi wonder what else he was capable of.

He could turn the world into anything.

If he couldn't...

It was fine if it all disappeared. All of it.

 

“Do you have any dreams, detective?”

 

It was so weird. There was someone in his world who wanted to understand him, like an NPC that had achieved sentience. He wasn't used to it. The voices Akechi heard every day were all fake, but his voice sounded different. He sounded sincere. Like he actually cared. It was familiar and unfamiliar in a way that was difficult to pin down.

Sincerity? From another person?

Even if it turned out that he was nothing more than a bug in the system, Akechi had no choice but to acknowledge him.

Kurusu Akira...

He decided to commit that name to memory – or maybe it was there before he even had the chance to consciously make the choice. Everything about his unique presence became engraved in Akechi's mind. Akira was clever and intelligent, surprisingly kind and charming. They were quite alike.

At times, when sitting there on that café stool, taking infrequent sips of a coffee gone cold, he'd lift his eyes over the edge of his cup and find himself meeting eyes with him. For those brief moments that always felt unusually long, he'd feel something tremble in his chest and he'd experience the strangest feeling.

Akechi saw himself reflected in those eyes.

That was unfortunate, though. He didn't really like looking at himself.

 

Anyway, Akira was too smart to ask such a stupid question.

 

“Dreams...?” Akechi laughed quietly and took a sip of his coffee. He could feel the weight of Akira's expectations in his gaze. It was sort of unnerving. Akechi didn't know why he didn't want to disappoint those expectations, but he only had one answer to give. “I'd call them goals. Dreams are fantasies and delusions of grandeur, but goals are things you make happen with your own hands. You don't have to waste your time sitting around, waiting for them to come true when you can make them come true yourself.”

Akira's eyebrows twitched. He moved to push up his glasses as if to disguise his involuntary reaction, but it hadn't gone unnoticed. Akechi wondered what it meant.

“Wow...”

“Did I just blow your mind?” Akechi asked, putting a proud-looking smile upon his face.

Akira smiled back, a little uncertainly. “Well, I can't say I've ever thought about it like that. Do you really not have anything you'd call a dream?”

“Why waste my time?” he said, making a flippant gesture. “I know what's attainable and unobtainable. The logic of realism sounds unappealing that way, but I think it's important to keep your eyes on what's possible to save yourself from disappointment later down the road.”

“I'm curious how far you'd go to obtain what you think is attainable, then. With that kind of attitude, it sort of sounds like you'd stop at nothing.”

“That's right.”

“What about intangible things?” Akira asked.

“Such as?”

“Such as...”

Words trailing, becoming quiet, Akira crossed his arms over his chest and tilted his head back in thought. His exaggerated actions made it obvious that he already knew what it was he wanted to say. He was either stalling or looking for another word to replace the one on his mind.

From somewhere at the very back of Akechi's mind, a long-forgotten word emerged. It was so absurd, he didn't dare to open his mouth and fill in the blank for him, but an ancient part of him wanted to hear Akira say it.

Akira didn't have to say it to him. He didn't have to mean it. Akechi just wanted to know what it would sound like when it came from the lips of someone sincere. Even if it were a lie. Just the word.

 

“Happiness?”

 

That hadn't been the word Akechi was thinking of.

 

Putting his cheek in his palm, he questioned Akira with an amused look. “Are we getting existential now?”

But, with a straight face, Akira just shrugged. “I don't know. I don't think it's that complicated. Doing what you're passionate about for a living is supposed to lead to a lifetime of happiness. Would you agree with that?”

Honestly, he was kind of annoyed. He thought that he and Akira were on the same page, but it was like Akira was trying to be contrary. It was like he was kiting him with his questions, leading him along, trying to make him say something. To even think that they were on the same page, though, Akechi had to acknowledge that he'd made a misstep somewhere. He didn't want to acknowledge that – he didn't think he was careless – but Akira's eyes were a little too knowing. They reflected a little too much.

“A lot of people do things they don't like in order to get by,” Akechi said. He took another sip of his coffee.

“Talking about yourself? You don't like what you do?”

“I'm just getting by,” he said, staring into his cup, tracing the rim with one gloved finger. “If I keep following my goals, I figure I'll grasp happiness eventually.”

“I thought you didn't like waiting around.”

It was unnerving and impressive, the way Akira was able to see through him. Akechi didn't like lying, but at least he thought he was good at it. It was hard to tell whether Akira was especially good at spotting a lie or if he was just slipping, becoming weak and careless when faced with that sly smile. That shouldn't have been the case, but...

Akira leaned on the counter, coming too close. His breath smelled minty and sweet. “You know, I like talking with you. I appreciate that you decided to confide in me, but I get the feeling that you're still holding back. You don't have to. You and I...” His eyes lowered to the surface of the counter for a moment, his smile becoming somewhat distant and mysterious. When he lifted his gaze, the clarity in his eyes made a sweat break out over the back of Akechi's neck. “We could have a real conversation,” he said.

...What was that supposed to be?

What was any of that supposed to be, really?

His heart was beating faster than usual. His hands were gripping his knees where Akira couldn't see, his jaw clenched so tightly he could hear the straining of his molars.

No one else made him feel that way...

That was his opportunity. If he wanted, he could've told him everything. It might've been fun to say it all just to find out if Akira would look at him differently. Those eyes and that smile were inviting him to spill his guts and it was so, so tempting, but there was no temptation Akechi couldn't resist, especially one so dangerous.

He wasn't finished with his world just yet, so he couldn't take any risks, but he was becoming fond of the idea of inviting someone else inside.

Akira was allowed to exist in his world. He didn't have to know everything.

That didn't sound bad at all. Akechi didn't have any dreams because he didn't need them. Akira wasn't a dream. He was right there, as tangible as the rest of his reality. That made him a goal. Achievable. Once he cleared away everything that stood in his way... Once he crushed the Phantom Thieves and their foolish ambitions... Once he humiliated and destroyed that despicable man... Then, he'd treat himself to Akira.

Until then, he was content to enjoy another cup of Akira's coffee.

Funny...

Strange, indeed.

The presence of one who could have been his equal made Akechi feel grateful – to who, he wasn't sure. He didn't believe there was anything like a God – none that were benevolent, at least – but he felt something like hope inside. Excitement. He looked forward to the completion of his goals, but Akira gave him something else to look forward to, Akira and his coffee and those grinning, cat-like eyes.

If all went well, he had himself to thank. No prayers necessary. He'd happily take the credit.

 

The bell above the door chimed as someone entered the shop.

 

Akira's eyes seemed to soften when he saw who it was.

It was that boy. Kitagawa Yusuke. Madarame Ichiryusai's last pupil.

He always looked so frail. It was shocking he hadn't offed himself to apologize for his teacher's foul actions. He seemed like the type. Sentimental.

 

“Kitagawa-kun,” Akechi greeted. “Good evening.”

“Akechi Goro.”

“M-My full name...?” Not even a 'hello'? Was he intentionally being rude or was he just that socially inept? “You can be more familiar with me than that. I don't mind.”

“Apologies, but... I don't know you.”

Frail as always. He looked like he could be knocked over with the gentlest flick of Akechi's finger, yet he had that obstinate attitude. He was like an immovable wall, so tall, Akechi couldn't see over the top. When looking into his eyes, searching for an opening to exploit, all Akechi saw was an unsettling darkness staring back at him. Like the eyes of a mannequin, they didn't see him and they didn't feel anything for him.

In some ways, that feeling... It was worse than being hated.

It didn't really matter. No matter how high the wall, there was nothing that could stop him from accomplishing his goals. Akechi looked forward to dismantling him.

Akira put his elbows on the counter and leaned toward Yusuke. “Hey. Sorry, I'm kind of busy right now. You're welcome to hang around and wait for me, though. Sojiro stepped out for a while, but he'll be back soon and then I can help you with whatever you need.”

Yusuke didn't take his eyes away, though. The swirling darkness continued to stare in Akechi's direction. Or maybe he wasn't looking at him at all. Akechi couldn't tell.

Weren't artists supposed to be observant?

So then, what did he see?

“I'm...” But Yusuke trailed off like he lost his thought or abandoned it. With a shake of his head, he turned toward Akira. “I shouldn't be distracting you while you have customers. I can leave.”

Just like that, he really would've left. Even his obstinacy was weak. But Akira's wasn't.

Seeing Yusuke about to leave, Akira slammed his palms on the counter to make him stop, looking like he would've reached across the counter to grab him by the arm if he had to. That quality of his was something Akechi liked, but he didn't like seeing it being extended towards others.

“Stay,” Akira said. “Morgana's upstairs. You can keep him company.”

Yusuke's face brightened. Those eyes that saw nothing in Akechi came alive when looking at Akira. After a moment's silence, a sketchbook was produced from the bag under Yusuke's arm. He turned the pages. Akechi took a glance at the page he'd opened it to.

A picture of Akira was drawn in great detail.

Yusuke's eyes scrutinized Akira's face for a moment longer, then his hand dove back into his bag. With a pencil held in one hand, a white eraser grasped between the fingers of the other, he did something Akechi thought was impossible.

He reached across the counter and touched Akira, brushing the hair away from his face.

It was like there was no distance between them.

It was like someone had already...

“What're you doing?” Akira asked, his voice sounding playfully annoyed. He smoothed a hand over the hair Yusuke had toyed with.

“Your hair looks different every time I draw it,” Yusuke explained.

“Well, yeah. My hair's an unruly mess. Is that a problem?”

“I liked the way it looked just now. You'd be surprised how greatly the simplest details affect the whole impression of a picture. I want my drawing to reflect the 'you' I personally see.” Yusuke grimaced at his sketchbook. “I hate erasing, though...”

Twisting some of his hair around a finger, Akira leaned a little farther over the counter to look at Yusuke's drawing. “Why's that? Does it mess up the paper?”

Yusuke sighed forlornly. “Madarame taught me that you have to live with your mistakes, so he advised me to sketch in pen because of the permanence of ink. I've always remembered that. I took it to heart. But I think if you're able to see the mistakes you made, you should try to fix them.”

Akira was quiet for a moment. He put his hand down and tapped the counter. “But you just said you hate erasing.”

Yusuke nodded. “It messes up the paper.”

They shared a laugh.

 

_Ah_ , Akechi thought. _So this is what it's like when Prince Charming rides in on his white horse._

 

He couldn't understand people like Kitagawa Yusuke who built their lives on the instability of dreams. It was an exceptionally foolish way of living. Despite whatever Yusuke had to say, Akechi thought he must not have learned anything from his teacher. If his dreams of painting weren't enough to support him in the end, then what was he going to have? The conclusion seemed obvious. He'd have nothing. Nothing but jealousy and envy for those who would succeed where he couldn't.

What made him so confident?

Wasn't he just an idiot?

Wasn't he...?

 

“Have a nice night, Akechi Goro,” Yusuke said.

 

Black holes, those eyes.

 

He was...

 

Scary.

 

As he watched Yusuke's back as he climbed the stairs, Akechi couldn't calm the maddening pounding of his heart. It wasn't the same as with Akira. He felt nauseous and... terrified.

And angry.

For the first time in his life, Akechi felt like he'd been seen. For the first time, it felt like someone had shown him what he really looked like, but it wasn't a reflection. He didn't have a reflection. Reflections required light to be seen. And there was no light in him.

Yusuke lied. He knew exactly what he was. That insolent bastard just didn't think he was worthy of his acknowledgment.

 

So, if that were his true self, then...

When he looked at Akira, what he really saw was...

 

“You know, I think I like you.”

 

“Pardon?” Akechi asked. Hearing his own voice, he was worried that Akira may have been able to tell how shaken he felt. It might not have mattered, though. Akechi could see a smile like his own on Akira's face; a mirror image of the person he was trying to present himself as. Akira's voice sounded sincere, but Akechi knew from his own experience that the smile he was smiling was fake, fake, fake.

He wanted them to be the same. He didn't want to be wrong about him, but he should've known.

He didn't like looking at himself in the mirror for a reason.

 

A real conversation.

 

Akira knew. He knew he was faking. That was why, Akira wasn't even speaking to him.

Akira was showing him what it was like to talk to himself.

So, when he said he liked him... Did he mean it? Was that real? How many of their other conversations had been fake?

 

“Was I mistaken about Kitagawa-kun?” he asked. So lost in thought, Akechi only barely realized that he'd spoken out loud.

 

If dreaming could rewrite his reality, then he was willing to try it just once. He didn't need anything but himself, so he could've kept going alone, but he couldn't illuminate the way in front without a light. So he was willing to try it once.

 

“What's there to be mistaken about? I don't think you'd need to be a detective to figure out that I'm dating him,” Akira said. “He's nice.”

 

The reality around Akechi felt more hostile than usual. It was laughing at him. That obstinate wall of a person suddenly seemed infinitely taller than he originally thought.

 

“Don't nice guys finish last?”

“That's just a saying. It's not a race. Where's the starting line? Where's the finish?” Akira shrugged. “You see what I mean?”

In Akechi's experience, there were most certainly winners and losers. All of the losers were piled up under his feet, so if Akira really wanted to know where the finish line was, he wouldn't have had any trouble showing him. Akira was better than that, though. He deserved a little more than just a consolation prize for the impressive amount of grief he'd caused.

“Not to sound insensitive,” Akechi tentatively began, “but isn't he kind of messed up after what he went through?”

“Yeah, kind of. But I love him.” Akira played a little with his hair and laughed to himself under his breath. “I mean, who isn't a little messed up?”

That word sounded as nice as Akechi thought it would. But it wasn't for him. And even though Akira's words were extended like an invitation, Akechi couldn't bring himself to reach out. The words that were supposed to have been forgotten were right there, and yet... Rather than say them, Akechi rose from his chair and began collecting his things, eager to leave.

Akira wasn't as close as he thought. Even if he reached out, Akechi wasn't certain he would have been able to grasp him the way he wanted to. Akira wasn't a part of his world. He was living in a world of his own – a tender, kind world – and he'd already invited others inside to be with him. Akechi couldn't reach him with them in the way...

But he had a hammer.

He would demolish the wall that separated him from Akira, and then he'd remove any other barriers in his way. Once he got himself close enough to touch Akira's heart, he'd steal it directly from his chest.

That sounded like a romantic way to end the one who gave him his first and only dream.

 

At the door, he was stopped by Akira's voice.

 

“Hey.” Akira waited for him to turn around, then implored him with a look Akechi didn't recognize. “I think you should consider looking through those goals of yours for a dream. You seem focused and self-sufficient, but I think... Maybe you could use something to believe in.”

“I believe in myself. What more could I need?”

“Not like-...” For a second, Akira looked deeply disappointed. He didn't rush to put a smile back on his face, though, like he wanted Akechi to be aware of what he thought, showing him true sincerity at a time when Akechi really didn't want it. “Have a nice night, detective.”

 

Outside, Akechi paused after stepping out from under the shop awning and looked up and over his shoulder at the illuminated window on the second floor. Akira's cat was there, sitting on the sill. It looked down at him with a judgmental stare. Kitagawa-kun was in that room, too...

Down the street, a drunk danced and sang at the top of his lungs.

Two young boys walked home, returning from cram school.

The owner of the secondhand store closed his shutters.

Akechi's phone rang.

 

He wanted to crumple up every other miniature world and throw them in the trash.

He wanted to break them, those sentimental losers.

He wanted to laugh.

 

Ah.

 

He really wasn't nice, was he...?

 

Ah...

 

On second thought, he didn't feel like laughing.

**Author's Note:**

> I love happy endings.


End file.
